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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817498">Scarlet in the Green</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishonenrockmysocks/pseuds/bishonenrockmysocks'>bishonenrockmysocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A bit abstract as Imp develops into a person, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Imp POV, Imp learns to fly, Imp learns to read, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, The Fright Zone (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:28:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishonenrockmysocks/pseuds/bishonenrockmysocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An experiment is only a failure when you lack the imagination to recognize its potential. Hordak may have thought Imp was a failed attempt to be studied and subsequently discarded, but Imp knew he was Hordak's greatest success of all, brimming with more opportunity than his creator could ever have dreamed, and Imp was going to prove that to him no matter what.</p><p>Now if only he can figure out how to get the stubborn man to understand that...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hordak &amp; Imp (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nascence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing the creature was aware of was green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vibrant, translucent green encasing its being in every direction, neither warm nor cold. A constant pressure that was unobtrusive and unmoving and overwhelmingly neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second thing the creature was aware of was two red lights peering intently through the green directly at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red lights were not steady or stable like the green, but moving; flickering back and forth, up and down, narrowing and expanding, blinking on and off sporadically but regularly. Sometimes the lights came closer, nearly penetrating the green, and other times the lights were far away, dimmer in the distance and giving the creature the sense that there was more to existence than the green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature liked the red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the red disappeared and the creature would strain its vision to look through the green, searching for its lost companion in the beyond place, and slowly trace the shapes and outlines of the red’s realm. The creature watched and waited and dreaded the red was lost forever, but the lights always returned eventually and whenever they came to peer within the green and the creature felt at peace once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gradually, the irregularity of the red lights’ appearances grew to be a comforting sliver of unpredictability in the creature’s otherwise perfectly still world of green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature could feel itself growing stronger as the red came and went, found itself able to track the red, shift its sight further and further to the sides to watch them. It wished to move more within the green, to come closer to the red and understand it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this unnamed desire, the creature discovered there was more to its existence than the red and green, that it had form beyond simple sight- limbs with flexible protrusions at the ends that could move if the creature willed. It wished to touch the red lights and so one of the limbs extended towards them, protrusions curling and spreading as it reached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red lights became particularly active then, shining more brightly than the creature had ever known them to, and the creature tried to repeat its actions to see if the red would do more. They grew large and stayed, much longer than the creature felt they ever had, and so it flexed and wiggled and moved its form in as many ways it could so the red light would remain interested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was tiring work, flailing within the green that resisted change, and the creature soon fell asleep, pleased that the red rewarded its efforts with focused attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red was still there when it woke once more and the creature watched in excitement as the lights moved and darted about busily. It tried to track and follow as the lights danced and circled the green, but the creature could not twist its meager form well enough to keep up and resigned itself to waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually the red stilled and something large pressed flat against the edge of the green. For the first time, the creature became aware of the color blue and it studied the splayed object in great interest, reaching to touch the object and noticing how similar the shape was to its own limb and protrusions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world around the creature vibrated, the green reverberating and disturbed, and the creature felt fear. All around it the green began to move and shift, swirling and pulling down while something tugged at it from behind. On instinct, the creature pulled itself in tightly, curling as the green it had always known began to disappear and the tugging behind it grew hard and uncomfortable. The green fell below the creature’s sight and it became aware of the harsh gurgling sounds of its world draining away and replaced by the colors the green had once obscured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always, the blue protrusions remained pressed against the clear membrane of the emptying green and the red watched the creature, calm and unflinching. The creature hung helplessly in its shell and stared up at the red lights, clinging to the single thing that still made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one last whining gurgle, the world went quiet and the blue and the red pulled away, revealing themselves to be attached to the same towering form. There was no time for the creature to panic, however, as a moment later the membrane began to peel away, hissing and grinding as it shifted upwards and out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red lights drew close and their limb, so much like the creature’s while still being so very different, reached out to carefully grasp the creature’s lower half. The red’s limb lifted the creature, relieving the painful tugging at its back, and reached with another limb to pull at the unseen object behind the creature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freed from its final restraints, the creature was brought close to the red’s form and wrapped in something soft and warm. The red’s protrusions rubbed gently at the creature’s back and it felt a great welling in its core, pushing up and out its mouth in the form of a cough and rattling breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything shifted wildly once more and the creature closed its eyes, dizzy and afraid and suddenly all too aware of taste and smell and air. Above the creature came a string of sounds, rumbling up through the red’s form, and the creature looked to see the familiar red lights peering down at it, tender and serene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights were so close now! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no more green to separate them and the red’s form was steadying and supportive, its limbs and protrusions wrapped carefully around the creature’s diminutive form, protective and safe. The creature reached out ineffectually for the red lights and one of the red’s limbs shifted, a protrusion coming within range of the creature’s own. The creature wrapped its tiny protrusions around the dark blue mass and marveled at its texture and size.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above it, the red’s form rumbled once more, thrumming and vibrating soothingly against the creature and forming a sound that pleased the creature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature decided, in that moment, that it loved the red with every last fiber of its existence.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pernicious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world outside the green is certainly...<em> different</em>. Alternately quiet and loud, full of smells and textures and sensations of all varieties. There are other creatures too- ones that look nothing like him and his red eyed creator, who occasionally enter the privacy of their space and make all kinds of different noises and movements.</p><p>The creature watches it all, studying and taking it in from the safe haven of his boxy enclosure with its soft blankets and cover that he can pull down if he feels afraid or it gets too loud. </p><p>Thankfully, the creator does not seem to like the other creatures much either and the intruders never stay long before they’re chased out. One of the intruders, a tall, slender figure draped in maroon and shadows with black hair that dances unnaturally in the still air, scares him in a way none of the others do and he always pulls his cover down and hides under his blankets until it is gone. That figure is rare and seems to displease the creator more quickly than the others; he always looks so tired after it leaves and when he comes over to the creature's enclosure to stroke his cheeks and rub the spot between his wings, he's never quite sure which of them the creator is trying to comfort.</p><p>For all the chaos of the outside world, the creator remains as reliable and comforting as the green once was and the creature is grateful for his steadying presence.</p><p>He does not yet understand the precise meaning of the sounds that come from his creator’s mouth, but he has learned to read the feeling in the vocalizations and done his best to imitate them. Soft, gentle whispers accompanying subtle smiles for pleasure. Sharp, snappish sounds with a deep frown and narrowed eyes for irritation. Modulated, plain sounds with a neutral expression are the most common, but when combined with a slight clipping to the sound, the creature knows he should pay close attention and do his best to comply.</p><p>There are other sounds too, some of which he is glad he has not caused the creator to make himself. On rare occasion, he has seen the creator roar and snarl at the intruders and sometimes even at objects when they are alone, especially the ones he has been bent over for so long even the creature grows bored and stops paying attention. Often, when that happens, the creator crashes and thrashes and throws the objects before stomping away, although, he always comes back eventually, pointed ears dipped low and tinted red as he silently picks up the objects and puts them away. Then he comes over to the creature’s enclosure and speaks softly to him and lets him reach through the enclosure bars for the creator’s hand and touch him.</p><p>The creature loves to compare their hands because, even though the creator’s skin is a few shades darker blue than his and his fingers are more pointed and sharp at their ends compared to his nubby ones, the simple action fills him with a sense of awe and wonder. He does not yet understand what it is, only that he feels intrinsically connected with the other being and craves his attention and the sensation of his touch more than food or water or air. </p><p>Admittedly, not all of his creator’s touches are exactly enjoyable. Sometimes the creator opens the door of his enclosure and scoops him and his blanket out and places him on a desk with a bright light nearby and examines him very closely. The creature is mostly used to it now- being poked and having his arms and legs and tail carefully twisted and bent this way and that, his wings being slowly pulled out and gently folded back up over and over. Sometimes there are objects involved, things that prickle and scrape, things that shine light or peer inside his mouth and ears, and he is less used to those.</p><p>The objects he hates the most are the ones that poke into him and pull red liquid out. He whined and screeched in displeasure the first time but the creator hissed and growled in return, his grip on the creature’s arm tightening ever so slightly in warning, and so he went still and obliging. As much as he hates it, the creator is never cruel or unkind to him and, so long as he remains still, the creator will make soothing sounds until it is over, so the creature always forgives him.</p><p>Sometimes, usually when the difficult sessions that make him feel dizzy and weak are finally over, the creator gives him extra food or something sweet to drink and, instead of returning him to his enclosure immediately, wraps him in his blanket and holds him close until he falls asleep.</p><p>He loves when that happens, especially since the creator makes the soft rumbling sound that feels so nice.</p><p>It makes it all worth it.</p><hr/><p>The creature has grown stronger now. He can stand on his own and jump and run when instructed. He still does not understand all the words the creator says, but he does know many of them and has learned to recognize his commands.</p><p>He’s a little taller now and heavier and sturdier too. He has hair like the creator’s, although it is a lighter blue and resists being combed down smooth, and his teeth have grown in (a painful experience the creature hopes he never has to live through again). He can stretch and flap his wings and no longer trips on them or trails them along like he used to. He still hasn’t figured out how to fly, but after watching the little paper model the creator made to demonstrate, he thinks he might be able to glide the next time he is let out of his enclosure to practice.</p><p>Except...the creator does not open the enclosure door to do tests and take measurements like he used to. He does not come by to sit with the creature or talk to him anymore and when he brings him food and water, the encounter is short and businesslike. He does not give out the affection the creature still craves like he used to and those red eyes no longer look at him in wonder and delight like they once did.</p><p>The creature does not know what he has done wrong or why the creator peers expectantly through the familiar green membranes across the room instead of at him. </p><p>He tries squawking and making noise one of those times, calling for his creator to remember that he is right here and not inside the green, but the creator snarls and shouts at him and pulls the cover over the enclosure. The creature cowers with his blankets in the muted light for the rest of the day and, from then on, is careful not to make another sound to disturb his creator’s work.</p><p>When he does eventually muster up the courage to pull back the enclosure cover, because the creator never does, he waits until it is late and the creator has gone to rest for the night. The bright green objects flood the darkened room with a soft glow that used to fill the creature with affection and curiosity, but now he scowls at them in jealousy and resentment.</p><p>He does not know why the creator is no longer interested in him, but he does know that, given enough time, he will find a way to make him care again. Until then, he will wait and he will watch and he will learn, just like he always has.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Unfortunately for Imp, this would not be the last time he would face down <a href="https://shadsiethewriter.tumblr.com/post/637902007128211456/teething-day">the horrors of teething</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Persistence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time the creator comes to take his bedding and replace it with fresh ones, he observes. He sits as close as he can to the side of the enclosure to see as much of the locking mechanism on the door as possible without getting in the way or seeming suspicious. He watches the creator press the buttons- <em> up, down, different down </em> - on the control panel and hears the lock click open. He focuses hard on the position of the creator's hand when he closes the door a minute later, trying to imagine what his fingers press when they move- <em> up, close to the edge near his water; down, in the center; down, again but near the edge that brushes against the enclosure wall</em>. He repeats the sequence in his head all day long, miming pressing on the floor in the correct order, and waits for the creator to sleep.</p><p>It takes him several tries- there are more buttons on the panel than he thought- but eventually he gets it and he trills loudly in excitement when the lock clicks open. His hands shoot up to his mouth, covering it in sudden terror, and he looks towards the door of the creator’s sleeping room.</p><p>Did he hear? The creator has such sensitive hearing, would he be able to hear his creation’s sounds from beyond the metal barrier? </p><p>If the creator knew what he was doing, he would be furious. If he were caught outside without permission, without the safety and protection of his guardian, he would be in trouble. Except, with just one look at the taunting glow of the green across the room he knew: he's <em> already </em>in trouble. </p><p>He could wait and do nothing and let the green seduce his creator away, or he could do…he wasn’t sure, but at least this way he could try and figure out <em> something</em>. The alternative- the waiting and the pining and the wondering- was already almost too much to bear. No matter what, he had to find a way to let his creator know he was still important and that he could be helpful and interesting! </p><p>He waits for a long moment, listening for any sign of movement, but there is nothing. With the barest of pushes, the enclosure door swings open smoothly, and he hesitates at its edge.</p><p>No- he has to do this. He has to prove to the creator that he is still worth affection and warmth and softness!</p><p>He crosses the threshold of his enclosure, glancing again to ensure the door to the creator's sleeping space remains closed, and takes several unsteady steps forward. His tail flicks and his wings rustle but still nothing happens and he relaxes a fraction.</p><p>This was okay. He was okay.</p><p>He stretches his stiff legs and reaches his arms as high as they can go, enjoying the freedom to move at his full range. He softly pads around the large room, extending and flexing his wings and enjoying the microcurrents of air that waft under them.</p><p>His wings.</p><p>Maybe he could try gliding? If he practiced and his wings grew strong, maybe that would interest the creator? He was not big like him, but the creator did not have wings and if he could fly, he could reach things even the creator could not and be helpful that way.</p><p>Yes. This is what he would do.</p><p>Standing in its shadow, he looks up at the looming green shell above him and does not feel fear.</p><p>It would probably hurt and he would probably fall many times, but it would be worth it. He would practice gliding and flying every night and one day the skill would be useful.</p><p>The green had left him and then it had betrayed him; he was determined that the red would not do the same.</p><hr/><p>It does hurt and he does fall, <em> constantly</em>.</p><p>Every night he waits for the creator to rest and every night he opens the enclosure and climbs up onto one of the desks and spreads his wings and tries to fly. </p><p>He hasn’t gotten very far yet. He extends his wings as far as they will go and holds them rigid and jumps but it never feels like he goes anywhere or stays up any longer or cuts smoothly through the air the way the creator had showed him. He tries tucking his body in close, stiff and out of the way, but that doesn’t help and just makes him fall harder. He tries flapping his wings, hard and fast, and figures maybe he can figure out gliding <em> after </em> flying, but each time he ends up on the floor in a mess of flailing and tangled limbs.</p><p>He’s starting to get good at crash landings, at least. He’s becoming a pretty good climber too.</p><p>Always, the green is there, watching and silently judging his efforts. It laughs at him, he knows without really understanding how, and calls him pathetic. It whispers to him that he is a thing that should not exist, a wretched creature borne from sickness and desperation. It tells him he is unimportant, a misplaced piece of something greater, that he is replaceable and disposable.</p><p>It tells him the creator will never love him the way he loves the creator.</p><p>Sweaty and tired, his hands bruised and his bare knees scuffed, he always makes sure to stop by the green shell every night before bed and look up at it in defiance.</p><p>It is wrong.</p><p>He <em> will </em> learn to fly.</p><hr/><p>During the day, he sleeps. When he wakes in the afternoon, he rubs his sore wings and stretches his stiff muscles, and in the evening he watches his creator and listens to the words he mumbles to himself and tries to understand.</p><p>Sometimes, when his ankle is swollen from landing on it badly or his arm has an itchy rash from sliding against the floor and he doesn’t feel like leaving the softness of his blanket to stretch and eat, he starts to doubt and begins to wonder if maybe the green isn’t a little bit right. Those days are the worst because they turn into the nights where he almost gives up on leaving the enclosure altogether. Every time he nearly gives up though, he reminds himself how much stronger he feels compared to when he started, how he can jump higher and run faster, and he knows his efforts aren’t wasted no matter what the specter in the green says.</p><p>So, he forces himself out of his blanket and eats his food and drinks his water and sits there, opening and closing his wings over and over until the creator returns from the beyond place.</p><p>If the creator ever notices his scabs or his bruises, he never says so and that’s fine with him. He still wants to prove to the creator that he is special, of course, but now he wants even more to fly up to the green’s level and look straight into it and sneer and snub and make sure it knows just how much of a stupid liar it is.</p><hr/><p>Something is wrong.</p><p>He’s barely gotten through his daytime meal and his stretches and the door leading to the beyond place has already opened. It remains empty for a moment before the creator appears, breathing hard and clutching at the door frame strong enough to leave scratches in the wall. He wraps an arm around his midsection, curling his hand under the giant blanket he wears around his head, and takes several halting steps inside. The creator starts and stops several times, leaning against the green shells and the tables and almost any other object that will take his weight, struggling and straining to catch his breath each time.</p><p>He presses himself up against the enclosure bars, his heart hammering in his throat as he strains to see what is wrong, who might be attacking his creator, but there isn’t anyone else. There is no blood and no threat that he can see, so why is his creator in pain? What has happened to him?</p><p>The creator makes it to his favorite work desk and collapses to his knees. One hand holds tightly to the edge of the desk and he leans his head against it, his unusually dim eyes sliding shut while his shoulders shudder and heave. </p><p>He watches his creator sweat and sway in place and wonders if he should let himself out of his enclosure and try to help. Is it too soon? Would the creator appreciate that? If he did, what would he even do? He doesn’t know what’s wrong or if the creator can even explain it to him, let alone how to hel-</p><p>There’s a sound from beyond the door.</p><p>It's one of the intruders! They're calling out, saying the thing the visitors say a lot when they speak to the creator. He thinks he recognizes the voice; the one with blue skin like theirs but extra limbs on their back instead of wings like him and a covering over one yellow eye instead of two red eyes like the creator.</p><p>They call out again and the creator hears it this time. His eyes pop open, wide and fearful, and his ears dip low. He turns his head weakly towards the open door and softly moans “no.”</p><p>He knows that word and he watches in horror as the creator tries to pull himself up and fails, losing his grip on the desk and crumpling further onto the floor. The creator shivers and shakes but does not try to stand again and he can practically <em>feel</em> the green glow coming from the shells across the room intensifying, leering at them and delighting in their helplessness.</p><p>The intruder cannot be allowed through the door. They cannot see this.</p><p>The world seems to slow down as he opens the enclosure lock faster and more smoothly than ever before. Everything feels strangely clear and crisp as he pushes the door open, drops to all fours, and dashes to his creator. The creator’s ears twitch and his red eyes turn and widen at him in surprise at his rapid approach but he does not stop, jumping instead and catching the edge of the work desk and scrambling up onto it. He takes a deep breath, zeroing in on the door and its panel across the room, and spreads his wings.</p><p>He leaps-</p><p>He flaps and pumps his wings, harder than he ever has before-</p><p>He only has one shot at this before the intruder arrives and he doesn’t know what the correct button is so he’s going to have to either remember which one the creator and the others press or get lucky and guess.</p><p>He hardly even notices the green shells as he passes them.</p><p>They’re unimportant.</p><p>The only thing that matters is getting to the door and closing it.</p><p>He will protect the creator.</p><p>He puts his hands and feet out, scrabbling at the wall as he forcefully slams into it and catching at the edges of the panel. He doesn’t recognize the buttons or remember which one they normally press so he goes with his instincts and pushes the biggest one.</p><p>The door closes just as the intruder peeks into view in the long space beyond it.</p><p>His triumphant squeak is cut off as he loses his grip and drops to the floor gracelessly. On the other side of the door he can hear the intruder huffing and growling in irritation and he lays there, perfectly still and hardly daring to breathe until their footsteps fade away.</p><p>He did it.</p><p>He really did it.</p><p>Bouncing up onto his feet, he jumps up and down several times in a circle and wiggles his hands.</p><p>He flew!</p><p>He made the outsider go away!</p><p>Tail swishing and chest puffed up, he looks at the green shells around him, pleased to see how dim and still they look.</p><p>Take <em> that</em>, you stupid things!</p><p>Across the room, two glowing red eyes stare at him, big and round, and a pair of red teeth hang open laxly below in complete astonishment.</p><p>Remembering himself, he drops his chest and shoulders and folds his wings in to make himself small again. The creator watches him the entire, miserably long walk back, silent and unblinking even when he sits obediently in front of his hunched form. He bows his head and nervously twists the end of his tail, waiting and dreading his punishment for leaving his enclosure.</p><p>Eventually the creator moves, grunting and flinching as he shift to sit properly and free his folded legs. When he peeks up, he sees the creator regarding him thoughtfully, eyes narrowed and head tilted, mouth still hanging slightly open. He trembles when the creator raises a hand but is pleasantly surprised when it turns palm upwards and the creator utters a quiet command to “come.”</p><p>Cautiously, he crawls forward into the creator’s reach and is scooped into his lap. The creator pulls him close against his warm body and delicately strokes him, fingers running from his eyebrows, over the top of his head, across his shoulders, and down his back to rub at the bottom edge of his wings the way he likes and coming back up to repeat the motion over again.</p><p>He looks up at his creator and chirps appreciatively.</p><p>The creator smiles tiredly down at him.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>It had <em>absolutely</em> been worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
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